


Safe Place to Land

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Modern!AU. You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Peggy Carter & Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 182





	Safe Place to Land

**Author's Note:**

>   
> This is for [@fanfictionaries](https://fanfictionaries.tumblr.com)’ Classic Trope Challenge on Tumblr! Congrats on 300 followers, and thanks for hosting! This was so fun to write. Special thanks to [@writeyourmindaway](https://writeyourmindaway.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for the flower dividers throughout the fic!  
> PG-13 for swearing. No trigger warnings except some alcohol use and drunkenness, and if awkwardness makes you feel weird, which-- SAME. Slow burn. Two idiots.   
> **Disclaimer** : I don’t own Bucky Barnes or Marvel. I also don’t own the song “Dance with Me” by Kelsea Ballerini, which is where the title comes from. The plot is mine! Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my permission. If you like what you read, **[please reblog](https://sunlightdances.tumblr.com/post/617576855264952320/safe-place-to-land-modernbucky-x-reader)** on Tumblr to help share my work!

You’re late. 

It’s truly a scene from a movie - you dashing through the airport, your rolling suitcase clicking behind you as it hits every line in the tile. People are staring, and you’re embarrassed, but you don’t have time to be.

Peggy will kill you if you miss this flight. 

_You’ll_ kill you if you miss this flight. Not for the first time, you curse Steve Rogers and his romantic streak for having a destination wedding. Especially because it’s going to be small. An exclusive wedding that could have just as easily been done in New York… you stop yourself. 

You’re happy to be going to London. You’ve never been before, and you’re even happier to be going to celebrate the wedding of two of your closest friends. 

It’s been over a decade since the first time you met Steve Rogers, alone and out of place in New York City, and at first you didn’t bother him - he was clearly going through something, and through your nosy neighbor, you knew he was recently back from a tour in Afghanistan. You were unable to stay away for long though, especially when you could hear the nightmares through the apartment walls, and could hear the grief he was struggling to control. 

A casserole outside his door and a late night coffee break later, the two of you were fast friends. He trusted you with his story, and the look on his face when you introduced him to your coworker Peggy sealed your friendship for good.

Finally arriving at the gate, you nearly knock over a very tired, very irritated looking Bucky Barnes, and roll your eyes to the heavens, because of _course_ you’re on the same flight. Why wouldn’t you be? You suspect foul play by your conniving best friend, but you don’t have time to complain about it. 

Bucky’s already glaring at you. “You’re _late_ \--”

“I know. How did you even know I was going to be on this flight?” 

“Steve mentioned it. Said to make sure you didn’t get left behind.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing into a chair near the gate as the boarding process begins, out of breath from your sprint through the airport. “He worries too much.”

“You _are_ late, though.” 

You glare right back at him, but can’t help but give him what you hope is a subtle onceover - right from the top of his baseball-cap covered head to his Nike-covered feet. It’s really not fair that he still manages to look like a runway model at four in the morning. 

Finally you’re called for boarding, and you push past Bucky to get on the plane, where you have plans to promptly fall asleep and hopefully be out for the next several hours. 

“Me again,” you hear his deep voice before you open your eyes, and you’re treated to the truly amazing sight of Bucky Barnes’ abs when his shirt rides up as he puts his bag in the overhead bin. 

“Terrific,” you mutter, and he snorts. 

“Go to sleep.” The heat practically radiates off him as he sits down next to you, him in the aisle seat and you in the dreaded middle seat. 

You really are tired - there was a reason you were running late. You have a habit of working too late and not getting enough sleep, another reason you were looking forward to this wedding. Ten full days in England. No work, just rest. And a wedding. But besides that--! No obligations. You can practically feel the stress melting off you. 

Almost as soon as the plane takes off and you start to doze, the man on the other side of you starts talking. At first you think he’s talking to Bucky across you, but it becomes clear he wants to get to know you better when he starts asking about your job, and finally, if you’re single.

You crack open an eye in disbelief, and open your mouth to respond before Bucky leans over and says quietly, but firmly, “No, she’s not. Sorry, dude.” 

Bucky’s forearm is pressing into yours, and you scowl at him before the other guy replies. 

“Oh, sorry. Should have guessed.” 

“Don’t worry, it surprises a lot of people,” you tell him. _Including me_. You look back at Bucky with a _what the hell_ look on your face, and he shrugs. 

Shifting, he lifts the armrest between you and leans in, whispering. “Unless you _wanted_ him to hit on you for the rest of this flight?” 

You groan internally, because there’s nothing you hate more than when Bucky has a point. 

It’s not like you _hate_ Bucky. He just-- he knows how to push your buttons. Being Steve’s best friend in the entire world, it was a packaged deal. Bucky came home a year after Steve. He was injured, and angry, and wanted nothing to do with the same type of optimism you tried to supply Steve with. 

You were okay with that. Not everyone is wired the same, and you had no business butting into Bucky’s life just because you were able to help Steve adjust to life after the Army. 

He warmed up eventually, after he and Steve both started going to VA meetings and were slowly working through things, though you knew there was a chance that the Bucky Barnes you were going to get to know would be nothing like the Bucky that Steve told you stories about. 

Still, it has always seemed like there’s something else there. Something under the surface that makes Bucky wary of you. 

You’re civil and have come to accept the facts: you and Bucky will never be friends. 

That’s why you’re so suspicious of his behavior on this flight. You figured he’d be rather amused by you getting hit on at 20,000 feet. 

Right before you fall asleep, you put that thought safely into the box labeled _Reasons You Will Never Understand Bucky_ and leave it at that. 

You wake up to turbulence, and Bucky’s elbow jamming into your ribs. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, and when he steadies you, you realize you were leaning into him while asleep, and feel your face turn hot. 

You don’t say anything - too worried you’re going to put your foot in your mouth. “What time is it?” You ask instead, and he blinks at you.

“No idea. I was asleep.” 

“Oh.” 

The silence that settles between you is a little awkward, but you try your best to get over it. It’s dark on the plane. Your left leg is asleep and your neck is so tense you wonder how you managed to sleep at all. _Probably because you had the world’s most attractive body pillow_ , you think. 

You pull your tablet out of the seat-back in front of you and turn the brightness way down. Opening a book you’ve been reading, you check the time. Seeing you still have a few hours before you land, you try to get comfortable before you start reading. 

You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you off and on for the next few minutes and you try to ignore the feeling it gives you - the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and when you catch him before he can look away, you feel the jolt through your entire body.

_That’s new_. 

Finally, the announcement comes that you’re landing in fifteen minutes, and everyone around you starts to gather their things and get restless. You feel the excitement building in you like a live thing, and roll your eyes when you see Bucky smirking at you. 

“Leave me alone; I’ve never been to England before.” 

His smile falters, just the tiniest bit. “It’s nice. You’ll like it.” 

It’s a weird comment, but you don’t say anything else. You have a vague memory of Steve telling you Bucky was airlifted to Germany and then to London before coming home after his accident, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing. Contrary to what he thinks, you actually don’t want to argue with him all the time, but especially not on this trip.

Heathrow is a madhouse. It’s even busier than when you left New York, and you’re a little overwhelmed, plus jet lagged. A great combo. 

You and Bucky get your bags from baggage claim and then he turns to you, looking a little worse for wear. “I’m assuming we’re at the same hotel.” 

“Hopefully not the same hotel Steve and Peg are in.” 

Bucky looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but still remains stoic.

“Oh come on,” you say as the two of you head to try to find a cab. “You know if we’re in the same hotel they’ll be calling all hours of the day to get us to do last minute stuff for them. I agreed to be a bridesmaid, not the wedding planner.” 

Like the sun finally breaking through, Bucky actually _smiles_ at that, and not for the first time in your sort-of-friendship, you’re struck by it, by how it changes his entire face and makes him look like a completely different person. 

“Steve’s been driving me a little crazy, I have to admit.” 

After verifying you _are_ both staying in the same hotel where the majority of the wedding guests are, you fall silent as you take in the scenery zooming past in the cab. 

Soon you’re approaching the most beautiful hotel you’ve ever seen, and you stare, open-mouthed, because this cannot be the place you booked. You were given the name of a hotel that Peggy said was nice and reasonably priced that most of the other guests were using, and you expected it to be-- well, not like the place she and Steve were staying. 

Still: this is-- too much. Opulent doesn’t even cover it.

“Wow,” Bucky says next to you, uncharacteristically awed by the sight. 

In the lobby, you’re even more convinced this is all a scam. Which is why when the concierge tells you there’s a problem, you’re almost not surprised.

“I’m so sorry - we have names for both of you on the reservation list, but it seems like they’ve put you both in the same room.” 

A pin could be heard dropping for how quiet you and Bucky get. 

He’s the first to speak. “I’m sorry?” 

“There must have been a mistake… we’re full the next two weeks with several wedding parties and whoever booked it must have made a mistake.” She’s perfectly apologetic, in that British way, but you’re having trouble getting past the idea that you’re going to have to live with Bucky Barnes for 10 days. 

“Can I just get another room?” You blurt.

“I’m sorry - we’re booked. There aren’t any other rooms.” 

Bucky turns to you. “Look, it’s fine. Where else are you going to go?” 

You feel something like panic welling up inside you. You and Bucky, sharing a room for ten days. How are you going to survive what’s sure to be the most awkward thing you’ve ever had to do in your life?

Better yet: how are you going to live with the teasing from Steven Grant Rogers when he finds out you have to be roommates with his best friend? 

You sigh. 

“The same room it is.” 

_This can’t be real_ , you think. _It’s too cliche._

“Um,” you say out loud, elegantly, “There’s only one bed.” 

“Appears that way.” 

“Well? What are we going to do?” 

Bucky looks at you, blank. “We’re grown. I feel like this isn’t that big of a deal.” 

You feel semi-hysterical laughter bubbling inside you, because this is very much a big deal. Especially when you’re just sort of admitting to yourself that your tiny crush on Bucky hasn’t waned over the years. You’ve always found him attractive and had no problem acknowledging that, but this? This is just too rom-com, even for you.

“It’s ten days. You don’t have a problem sharing a room with me for ten days?” 

He shrugs. “What else am I going to do? Can’t bunk up with Steve. We’ll be busy with wedding stuff for the next two days anyway, and then afterwards… I don’t know. I figured you’d be sightseeing?” 

You stare at him. “Okay, but… what are _you_ going to be doing?” 

He looks down. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. You assume I’m here as long as you are,” he points out.

He’s right - you have no idea how long Bucky booked this trip for. Without wanting to pry, you’re again reminded that he has a small history here, and probably one that he doesn’t want to re-live. 

You’re interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing, and you busy yourself unpacking while he answers it. 

“Hey, Steve.” He says, his voice entirely different when he talks to his best friend. “Yeah, just got to the hotel.” A few beats. “I was probably just going to crash for the night…” 

You get a text from Peggy almost at the same time, asking if you want to meet her and Steve for dinner, and meet Bucky’s eyes. You must look as tired as he feels, because he makes another excuse.

“If Y/N’s not going to be there, I don’t want to be third wheel with you two lovebirds.” Another beat. “Yeah, let’s do breakfast. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

You tap out a response to Peggy about jet lag and already being in bed (and it’s not like you don’t want to see your best friend, you’re just-- there’s too many things happening right now for you to even think about going out for a late dinner), and toss your phone towards the bed.

Yet another reminder of the fact that you’re going to be sharing with Bucky Barnes as soon as you’re both exhausted enough to sleep. 

When he hangs up, you look at him curiously. “You didn’t mention anything about our living arrangements.” 

He sighs. “Look, Steve’s stressed out enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this mixup too. Besides, it’s fine. It’s just sleeping.”

You hate yourself for the heat you feel at the thought of sharing a bed with him, even though it’s a fleeting feeling that you force away. “Yeah. Just sleeping.”

Bucky says he wants a shower and you offer to order room service. It’s almost 10pm, but you both know you won’t be able to sleep on an empty stomach. 

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom, you feel like a teenager. Even _he_ looks a little flushed, but you think it’s from embarrassment. “I-- forgot a change of clothes. Sorry.” He looks so chagrined, you can’t help but snicker.

“Buck, you’re offending my delicate sensibilities.” 

His eyes go a little wide and you realize you’ve never called him by that familial version of his nickname before, but it just -- you’ve known the guy almost as long as you’ve known Steve. It just slipped out.

He recovers quickly, winking at you. “Honey, we all know there’s nothing delicate about you.” 

You both freeze, both taken aback by the sultry lilt to his voice as he teases you, and again, you’re saved by an interruption - this time a knock on the door saying room service has arrived. 

Bucky heads back to the bathroom to change, and you gulp in a few deep breaths before answering the door to get the food.

A whole night of this. You have no idea how you’re going to survive.

Your alarm goes off way too early. In reality, it’s eight in the morning, but you still feel like you;ve been hit over the head with something heavy after a day of traveling.

Moreover, you feel like something heavy is _actually_ on you, and you peek open a bleary eye to see Bucky over your shoulder, his arm slung across your waist like it was always meant to be there. 

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping you don’t wake him, but also wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible. You scramble for your phone, the groan leaving him as he wakes up a noise you try to convince yourself you don’t want to hear again.

“What time is it,” he asks, his voice rough with sleep. You shiver.

“Eight,” you reply, finally reaching your phone and sliding a thumb across the screen to turn the alarm off. 

He realizes his position and rolls away from you casually, so you mentally decide to pretend you weren’t cuddled up to him for most of the night.

You already have a text from Peggy asking if you want to join her, Steve, and Bucky for breakfast, so you have no choice but to get up and shower, trying to forget the warm feeling of being held by Bucky Barnes.

In an hour, you’re both waiting on a busy street for the almost-newlyweds, and you see them before they see you, Steve’s broad form and Peggy’s impeccable posture unmistakable. You smile unconsciously - they look so happy. You feel a pang though, because you don’t think you’ve ever been with someone who made you feel so carefree.

“Short stuff!” Steve calls, and you roll your eyes, muttering under your breath about how you’re not _that_ short while Bucky snickers next to you, but before you can berate Steve, he’s gathering you into a hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

Over Steve’s shoulders you see Bucky give Peggy a kiss on the cheek and a shy smile as they hug, exchanging quiet words. 

You and Peggy might have known each other first, but she and Bucky bonded right away, making you wonder (not for the first time) why it seemed to be only you that Bucky had trouble getting to know. You brush off the thought - this week was about your friends and their wedding, and you were going to stop worrying about anything that wasn’t making sure this wedding was perfect.

“Missed you,” Steve whispered, “Did you get in okay? Bucky said you were late.” 

You roll your eyes again. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smiles. “Go say hi to Peg. She’s excited you’re here.” He gives your shoulders a squeeze before passing you off to Peggy, who hugs you so tight you can barely breathe.

“You look so--” you sigh, unable to find the words, “Happy. You look so happy, it’s like you’re already married.” 

She grins. “I’ve been dreaming about this day for years. I’m excited.” 

The four of you sit down to eat and you have the best breakfast you’ve ever eaten. Around a mouthful, you tell the table, “I never want to eat anything but these potatoes for the rest of my life.” 

The rest of the meal is spent talking about the wedding and any last minute items that need to be done before the rehearsal dinner later that night. It sounds like everything is going as planned, which doesn’t surprise you when it comes to Peggy Carter.

“And so far everyone has arrived, we think. Have you run into anyone at the hotel?” Steve asks, and you and Bucky both freeze, before he speaks.

“Not… no. Haven’t seen anyone else yet.” 

Steve looks between the two of you, eyes narrowed. “What? What happened?” He puts down his fork. “You _can’t_ be fighting already, it’s only been--” 

“They gave us one room.” You blurt. “There was a mixup and we have to share a room.” 

Bucky steps on your foot _hard,_ because you’ve forgotten his warning about not telling Steve and keeping the groom from stressing out the day before his wedding. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving a hand. “It’s just sleeping.” 

You want to scream. _Was it just sleeping when we cuddled all night? There wasn’t even alcohol involved_! 

“Right.” You say brightly, “It’s fine. No big deal.” 

Steve is frowning. “I can call--” 

“No!” You and Bucky both exclaim.

“Please don’t worry about this. It’s a non-issue,” You say, looking to Peggy for reassurance. 

“They’re adults, Steve.” 

“Adults who always seem to want to rip each other’s heads off,” he mutters, reaching for his coffee. Over the rim, he meets your eyes, and you shake your head minutely. _Don’t you dare_. 

Breakfast is a little subdued after that, but soon it’s time for Steve and Peggy to go to the venue to make any last minute changes, leaving you and Bucky to your own devices for a few hours before you have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. 

Before parting ways, your phone buzzes. 

**Steve Rogers: __**_You sure you’re going to survive this?_

_**You:** I will murder you._

Across the sidewalk, Steve snorts. 

**Steve Rogers: __**_I’m just saying. Your crush is kind of obvious, you know?_

_**You:** Lucky for you, Bucky literally pays no attention to me. It’ll be fine._

**Steve Rogers: __**_That’s what you think._

You meet Steve’s eyes, trying to figure out what he means, but he just shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket. 

The four of you say your goodbyes, and then you and Bucky are left standing on the street awkwardly. 

“I was going to go to a museum--” 

“I might check to see if Sam is here yet--” 

You both speak at the same time. 

Bucky clears his throat. “Right. Well, I’ll go check on Sam and you go to your museum or whatever. You have a room key?” 

You nod. “Yep. All set.”

“I guess… have fun. Don’t get lost.” 

You scowl. “Great, thank you for your concern.” 

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him call, “Don’t be late!” 

You flip him off over your shoulder and pretend you don’t hear him laughing as you keep heading down the street in the complete opposite direction. 

You get back to the hotel in the early afternoon so you can shower and start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Outside your shared room, you hear voices, so you pause. You can tell one is Bucky, and soon you recognize the other voice is Sam.

“Really, dude. You sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Bucky’s voice is gruff. “Do I _want_ to be in London? Not particularly. Can I separate my issues from celebrating this wedding? Yes.” 

A sigh, but you can’t tell who it comes from. 

“It’s okay to have mixed feelings about London.” Sam says. “The last time--” 

“I know what happened the last time I was here.” Bucky interrupts, voice firm and icy. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t want to talk about it.” 

A pause. “Okay, then let’s talk about your other issue.” Sam says, and even through the door, you can tell he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Come on! You’re sharing a room with--”

Not wanting to overhear something _else_ you shouldn’t, you hurriedly put your key in the slot and push the door open.

The two men are silent, staring at you, and you can _feel_ the guilty look all over your face, so you try your best to school your expression into nonchalance.

“Long time no see,” Sam says, standing up to give you a hug.

“Hi, Sam.” 

You make some small talk and try not to notice how quiet Bucky is being. He can’t really hate this situation that much… right? Or is it just this place in general? You’re too afraid to ask. 

After another hour or so, Sam leaves the two of you to get ready himself, and you race to the bathroom to shower and start doing your makeup. 

You’re very conscious of the fact that Bucky is getting changed in the room just beside you, so you take your time getting ready, making sure you’ve done every last thing you can think of before you emerge. 

You’re not prepared for the sight of him, more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. A dark blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showcasing part of a tattoo that snakes down from his left bicep. His newly-shorn hair is artfully styled, the watch on his right wrist glinting in the late day sun streaming into the room.

God, how are you going to get through tomorrow? Seeing him as one of the groomsmen? You’re going to die. 

“You look nice,” you manage, not wanting to stare at him any longer. 

He looks like he doesn’t know what to say. You’re not sure if it’s the compliment he’s having trouble with, or what. “Thanks,” he says eventually. “You do too.” 

The rehearsal dinner is like a fairytale, just like you knew it would be. The food is great, the company is even better, and even Bucky looks like he’s having a good time. There’s lots of toasting the bride and groom to be, and that involves a lot of drinks. A lot. 

By the time you’re walking back to the hotel with Bucky, you’re a little unsteady on your feet, but he’s not doing much better, your hips bumping every few feet as you walk. 

“You’re a lightweight,” he laughs, and you attempt to glare at him, but you think it comes off more like you’re leering at him. He reaches for your elbow gently and tugs you into the elevator with him, and it’s a challenge to stop thinking all the inappropriate thoughts that start clouding your mind. 

Safely in your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Bucky starts to get ready for bed. You need to get your makeup off and into your pajamas, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re staring.” 

You grin, “Just enjoying the show.” Instantly horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear it.” 

Bucky’s a little pink around the ears, but he looks smug. “So you think I’m hot?” 

You groan. “Shut up. You know you’re hot.” 

He looks surprised for a half second, and you fall backwards onto the bed. 

“Stop it, stop asking me stuff. I can’t be trusted.” Apparently you can’t take your own advice, because you start thinking out loud, “It’s too bad you hate me. We’d be like, the hottest couple of all time.” 

It’s silent, and when you finally look up, he’s staring at you, a frown on his face. “Is that what you think?” 

“I _know_ we’d be the hottest couple of all time--” 

“No,” he interrupts, exasperated. “You think I hate you?” 

“I think--” you suddenly clamp your mouth shut. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Bolting past him, you make it there in time, and barely register him coming in a few seconds later, holding your hair back. 

God. How embarrassing. _Love this journey for you_ , your brain helpfully supplies. 

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Bucky helping you out of your dress, and a cool hand on your forehead. Then it all goes black. 

Your alarm goes off early again the next day. Wedding day. You’re due at the venue with the rest of the bridal party at nine to start hair and makeup. 

Your mouth feels like it’s made of cotton, and you curse everyone involved in the dinner for doing so many toasts. 

“God,” you groan, and when you open your eyes, you see Bucky on the chair in the living area, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “What--” 

“Here,” he says, tossing you your phone, alarm still going off. 

There’s a text from Steve asking if you’re alive, and another from Peggy’s bridesmaid group chat with a million love-themed emojis.

“Thanks,” you grumble, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you. Startled, you look up, “Bucky, I am so sorry--” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves a dismissive hand at you. 

“I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’m such an annoying drunk. I--” 

“Really,” he interrupts your apology, “It’s okay. You weren’t that bad.” 

He’s quiet, which isn’t that different, but he looks… more intense than usual. Contemplative. It makes you nervous. Especially because the night before is still coming to you in pieces. 

“Have you been up long?” You ask. 

His eyes shutter. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping.” 

An awkward silence settles. “What time do you have to--”

“You probably need to get going--” 

You both speak at the same time, and strangely, your throat feels tight as he won’t meet your eyes. How badly had you screwed things up the night before? 

“Right. I do have to get going. Just going to--” you gesture to the bathroom, and he nods. You make your escape into the shower and spend a little longer than necessary in there, trying like hell to figure out what you could have said to him. 

It’s hours later before you see Bucky again. You and the rest of the bridal party are helping Peggy with finishing touches, and the photographer is taking action shots, the entire room a mix of blush pink and gauzy white. 

Peggy is a vision - her hair curled and pinned in an old-fashioned style befitting a princess, and her lips painted her signature cherry red. 

“Steve’s going to die,” you say, grinning at her, and she winks. 

“Almost ready, girls?” She asks everyone else, and there’s a cheer before everyone begins to head out into the hall, gathering with the groomsmen to begin the walk down the aisle. 

You’re blindsighted by the sight of Bucky in his tux. You take a moment to be thankful you’re walking with Sam, not with Bucky, because surely he’d be able to hear the way your heart is pounding just looking at him. 

He looks similarly awed, and your ego takes a moment to soak it up before you can feel embarrassed at the attention. 

“You’re… you look great.” He says quietly. 

“Thank you. You too.” 

The smile he gives you is so soft, you can barely stand it. 

“Okay Barnes, hands off my date.” Sam interrupts, linking your arm through his. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. Before he can say anything else, the procession is starting, and you’re swept up in the romance of this moment finally happening.

Steve cries.

You do a little, too. 

You catch Bucky looking at you with those intense eyes during the ceremony twice, and you’re suddenly more nervous than you’ve ever been, because you still have eight days left of your trip. Possibly eight more days rooming with Bucky if he doesn’t leave before you.

If the tension doesn’t kill you, sleeping in the same bed with him again will, for sure.

The reception space is even more beautiful than the ceremony, and even as you sit there, chin in your palm watching Steve and Peggy dance, you think you’ve never felt more romantic in your entire life. 

You dance with Sam, and then Steve finds you, his eyes already a little glazed over. 

“Come on, you can’t sit there all night.” 

You huff as he finds your hand and tugs you out of your seat. “I haven’t been sitting here all night.” 

“You’re not going to deny your best friend a dance. That’s that.” 

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments as the two of you sway slowly, and when you look up at Steve, he’s only got eyes for Peggy, who’s dancing with Sam on the other side of the room. 

“I’m happy for you, Rogers.” 

He grins down at you, “When are you going to start trying to make yourself happy?” 

You groan. “Steve, don’t.”

“I’m serious! Look… I know Bucky is… he seems serious sometimes, and it can be hard for him to open up, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices.” 

The thought of it sends butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, but there’s just no way that could be true. No matter how much of a romantic Steve Rogers is and how much he would love for his best friends to get together, it’s just not going to happen.

“Incoming,” Steve whispers, and you turn over your shoulder to see Bucky there, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

Steve steps away from you, and your eyes widen at him, panicking. “No problem,” he says to Bucky, “I’ve got a bride to get back to.”

Bucky takes a step closer. “Dance?” 

As if on cue, the DJ plays something soft and slow, and you’re left powerless to resist Bucky and the way he’s looking at you - a little guarded, but still open and vulnerable. You feel like you have no choice but to take his hand, a shock working its way up your arm at the contact.

_May my hands be the hands you hold onto_

_When you let go of everything else_

_May my arms be the arms that you fall into_

_When the night gets too heavy to hold by yourself_

You feel so self conscious as you dance with Bucky, his touch gentler than you ever allowed yourself to imagine it might be. He holds you close, your clasped hands resting over his heart, and you force yourself to enjoy this quiet moment with him.

_If you're looking for a safe place to land_

_I will guide you home_

_And if the levy of your life breaks all your plans_

_You'll never be alone_

You think about the first time you met him - he was so different then. The same stoic Bucky Barnes you know now, but less quick to crack a joke or a smile. He stuck close to Steve and Sam, but it was clear to you that there was so much more to him than his outward appearance.

There’s the loyalty he shows to his friends. He’s smart - probably the smartest person you know, and so driven. He’s fiercely protective and is observant to a fault, the result of Army training he’ll probably never get rid of.

And -- you hate to admit it, but there was a time when you thought Steve was right. You’d catch Bucky staring out of the corner of your eye and think _maybe, maybe there’s something there_. And then like a switch flipped, he was quicker to argue with you, every little thing turning into a reason for the two of you to fight.

Now though, the gentle way he’s holding you and the scent of his cologne flooding your senses… you can almost trick yourself into thinking your feelings are reciprocated. That Bucky was just as nervous around you as you are around him.

The song comes to an end, and so does the moment.

_If you dance with me_

_Feel my heartbeat through your body to your feet_

_If you dance with me_

_Hold me in the dark now, until both your eyes can see_

_And if it's you and me against the world_

_If I'm your man, you're my girl_

_We'll win you'll see, if you dance with me_

Steve and Peggy are leaving in the morning for Paris for a few days, and then to Spain. You feel a pang of jealousy watching them leave the reception, hands and eyes locked together as if nothing could tear them apart. 

For a moment, you so desperately want that kind of affection with someone else. You take a deep breath and force yourself to get it together. 

“Share a cab back?” A deep voice behind you asks, and you’re surprised to see Bucky. He made himself scarce after your dance and you didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

The cab ride to your hotel is nearly silent. Every small noise is amplified, like you shifting in your seat, and Bucky loosening his bow tie. 

“Have you decided how long you’re going to stay?” You ask, finally, the one question that’s been plaguing you. 

He looks at you, eyes impossibly blue in the streetlight glow. “A few days, I think. I have some… I have some stuff I want to see before I go home.” He shakes himself out of whatever memory he’s in. “You? The full ten days?” 

You shrug. “If I can keep this room, yeah. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.” 

Bucky nods, turning to look back out the window again. At the hotel, he helps you out of the car and pays for the cab despite your protests, and when you get inside the elevator, you’re struck again by how handsome he looks, flushed from alcohol and a little more tousled than usual; his bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. 

He catches you looking once again, but you can’t look away. You know you’re not imagining this time how his eyes darken a shade, and you watch with rapt fascination as he licks his lips, leaning down ever so slightly -- the elevator _dings_ and the doors open. 

The spell is broken. 

“Bucky?” 

He shakes himself out of his thoughts almost physically, and then he’s walking away from you, heading towards the room without a backward glance. 

The next morning, you and Bucky are tangled together so much that there’s no way you can get up without him waking up first. Your first thought is embarrassment, but then you just… give in. You let yourself enjoy it, only feeling guilty for a few minutes.

You’re so warm and you feel so protected… you once again curse Steve Rogers for making you think about your persistent crush on Bucky, because now you can’t get it out of your head.

“Morning.” Bucky’s voice is rough, and you jump, because he’s still got his arms around you. And he’s awake. 

“Morning,” you say cautiously. 

“Sorry,” he slowly pulls away from you, the tips of his fingers lingering on your arms. “I’ve been told I’m like an octopus in my sleep.” 

Something about Bucky seems different first thing in the morning. His walls aren’t up. 

“It’s okay. I’m not complaining about free cuddles.” 

He smiles, you can feel it where his stubble scratches your temple. There’s something like giddy excitement brewing in you. 

“Can I-- I have a favor to ask.” He says. “I have to go somewhere today… I-- if you don’t have plans, would you come with me?” 

You crane your neck to meet his eyes. He looks nervous. 

“Okay,” you say simply, because you think if he keeps looking at you like that, you’d follow him anywhere. 

He tells you to dress casually, so you opt for a simple jeans and t-shirt outfit with a cardigan thrown overtop. You pack whatever you think you’ll need for a day in your backpack and follow Bucky out when he’s ready. He seems to know where he’s going, and you walk with him in comfortable silence.

He starts fidgeting the closer you get to a massive hospital, and when you get close enough to read the sign, you realize this must have been where he was taken for part of his recovery. 

“Bucky--” You breathe, because this is too much. He’s trusting you with too much, and you’re not sure you deserve it.

“I--” He swallows hard, “The doctor who saved my arm still works here. I try to write as often as I can, but I thought a face-to-face visit was probably overdue.” He looks down at you, “I just-- I haven’t been here in years. I don’t think I can do it alone.” His words are measured and careful, and you realize how hard it must be for him to be here in the first place, let alone trusting you with something like this. 

You feel tears pricking your eyes and you fight to keep them back. “Okay, Bucky. Yeah. Let’s do this.” 

He smiles shakily at you, and on a whim, you reach for his hand. When he freezes, you realize you’ve gripped his left hand, the one with the scars encompassing his wrist and three of his fingers, the hand connected to the same arm that was nearly blown off in Afghanistan, the one that nearly cost him his life. 

He doesn’t let go. If anything, he squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel another tendril of affection curl around your heart. 

Inside, he introduces himself to the woman at the reception desk, and after a few questions, you’re directed towards an elevator and given directions to the floor the doctor’s office is on. You think Bucky has memories of this place for the way he leads you there with almost no words. 

A quick knock on the door, and then he’s shaking hands and exchanging broad grins with a young woman. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” She exclaims after letting go of his hand. “It’s about time you showed your face around here.” 

Bucky is _blushing_ and you’re so enamored with him you can barely stand it. While he’s talking, you dig your phone out of your pocket and text Peggy. 

_I know you’re on your honeymoon, but SOS! I need help._

Bucky turns to you, and you realize he’s trying to introduce you. 

“This is Shuri. She’s the one who operated on me and helped me with PT after my injury.” 

“It’s really great to meet you,” you tell her, trying to ignore her curious look. 

“You as well.” 

She and Bucky start talking again, and even though you can tell Bucky’s still a little nervous to be here, you’re enthralled by the sibling-like relationship he has with his former doctor. 

“I want to make a donation,” Bucky says quietly. “I didn’t know who to go to about it. I want to give it specifically to this ward, to the work you’re doing.” 

You feel like you’re intruding, but he keeps looking to you like he needs reassurance, so you smile at him. 

“I’ve-- I’ve been putting money away over the last few years and I’m at a place now where I want to help.” 

You send another text to Peggy.

_Seriously, SOS!!!!! If you don’t call me soon, I’m going to do something I regret._

A minute later, your phone rings, and you excuse yourself to the hallway.

“Thank God.” 

“Darling. I love you, but what could possibly be so important that you had to call on the first day of--”

“I think I’m in love with Bucky and I have no idea what to do about it.” 

A choked noise comes from behind you and you whirl around, mortified to see Bucky there, eyes wide, pale. 

“Oh, _shit_. Peggy-- I have to go.” 

“Are you kidding?” 

“Bye, love you.” You hang up quickly, and take a step towards Bucky before you even register you’re doing it. “Bucky--” 

“Are you-- I heard you were talking to Peg, I thought something was wrong.” 

“I’m-- oh God, Bucky, I-- I have to go.” 

“Wait--” 

Your tears are overflowing now. You’re so embarrassed, you have no idea how you’re going to look him in the eye, let alone sleep in the same bed as him.

Vision blurry, you decide to take the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the elevator, and you’re gone before he can catch up to you. 

Bucky’s ears are ringing as he stares after you. He feels like he has shell shock again - unable to comprehend anything that just happened. 

“Need a chair, soldier?” Shuri asks him, clearly having overheard the entire thing, and he nods dumbly, basically collapsing into a chair near her desk. 

_I think I’m in love with Bucky_. 

Your words echo over and over in his mind, and he honestly can’t believe what he just heard. 

Your friendship has always been complicated, but the way Bucky feels about you is simple. He’s crazy about you. Crazy for you, and terrified that he’s not good enough for you, so he’s pushed you away time and time again, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you might like him too.

Sharing a room -- a _bed_ \-- with you has been every one of his daydreams come to life. (A lot less kissing, sure, but whatever)

Now this-- this _revelation_ , it’s too much.

“All the most important events of your life seem to take place at this hospital, Bucky.” Shuri says, gentle teasing in her tone. 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky groans, “What the hell do I do?” 

“You’re going to go after her.” Shuri says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. She rolls her eyes. “It’s obvious you’re in love with her too.” Bucky thinks he must look horrified, because she continues, “You’ve never brought anyone here before. I couldn’t convince you to come back even for a tour of the new labs. And the one time you do come of your own free will, you bring her. What does that tell you?”

A half hour later, Bucky has called you three times and has checked at the hotel twice, and now he’s at a park near the hotel, on a bench, having no idea what to do.

Of course that’s when Steve calls.

“I hear you’re having a crisis.”

Bucky groans. “‘M not having a crisis. A moment, maybe.”

“She told you she loved you?”

“She told _Peggy_ she loved me, and I was eavesdropping, and she ran away crying.”

Steve is silent. 

“Right? It’s bad. It’s so bad. Maybe if I’d just been… I don’t know. More talkative during this trip? Or maybe I should have just gotten my own room and saved us both the trouble.”

“Look, no offense, but you’re both so _dense_.” 

Bucky scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I love her like a sister and love you like a brother, but everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. Why else did everyone steer clear of the two of you at the wedding? It’s obvious, dude.”

Bucky has never felt so stupid in his entire life. All these years, he tried to distance himself from you, sure that he was only going to get hurt if he put himself out there. He liked you too much to risk ruining a friendship, even if it was barely a friendship to begin with. Quick to argue and stubborn, you were also generous and kind, beautiful, and passionate about your work and your friends and your family.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and you terrify him. 

And you love him.

Apparently.

He’s on his feet again. 

“I have to go,” He tells Steve. “I’ll text you later.” 

“Good luck.” 

You’re back at your shared hotel room, trying to pack up and leave before Bucky finds you. It’s childish, sure, but you can’t take this anymore.

You’re going to get a new room at a different hotel, and try to salvage the rest of your vacation.

The door opens before you can finish zipping your bag, and you turn to see Bucky storming in, his face unreadable and a piece of paper in his hand.

“What the hell is this?”

You turn away. “It’s a note.”

You assume he’s noticed your bags. “Were you really going to take off and just leave a note that says you’re _sorry_?”

His hand on your elbow forces you to turn around, and you feel like you’re going to cry again. 

His face softens. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. You were-- you were trying to do something for you, and my loud mouth just had to ruin it. I never meant for you to find out--”

“You were never going to tell me you’re in love with me?”

You blanche. “God, I mean-- I don’t know! It’s not… this isn’t _easy_ …”

“You still think I hate you.”

You freeze, thinking back to your drunk conversation from a few nights ago. “I don’t think you hate me.”

“Good. Because I don’t. Far from it, actually.”

You try to squash the little seed of hope blooming in your chest.

“You know, when we first met, I was jealous of you. You were closer to Steve in a year than anyone else, and I didn’t know where I fit anymore. I didn’t understand what made you so special.”

Frowning, you try to turn away, but he won’t let you.

“But then I got to know you. I got to know how you care about people, and how you looked after Steve when he first got back. I learned how you do everything you can to make other people happy, but don’t try to do the same thing for yourself. I learned that you’re a lightweight and you’re a flirt when you’re drunk, and I learned that I--” He stops, catches his breath. “I learned that it only took me a few months to fall in love with you so deeply that I can’t see my way out.”

Your insides feel like mush. The touch of his hand slides up to your shoulder, and you feel more alive the closer he gets to you. 

“I pushed you away, because you’re way too good for me, sweetheart. You always have been. You don’t need someone like me weighing you down. And when this room mix-up happened, it was both the best and worst thing to happen to me.”

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper, and his brows furrow, confused, as you continue. “Don’t you dare say you’re not good enough. You’re-- I’ve never met a better person than you, James Barnes. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

You’re both silent, staring into each other’s eyes, the room crackling with the energy of confessions and tension.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re kissing, Bucky’s hand moving to the back of your head as his free arm slides around your waist to haul you against him. Fire licks through your veins as he deepens the kiss, barely letting you break for air before dragging you in again, consuming you entirely.

It could be minutes or hours that you’re kissing him in the middle of your hotel room surrounded by your luggage, but when you break apart, your legs are weak and he chuckles as he keeps you upright, a smug smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.” You say weakly.

“Don’t leave.” 

You sigh, forehead leaning against his collarbones.

“I haven’t had a vacation in a long time either, now that I think about it.” He offers, head tilting to one side as he looks you over. “You think you could stand to room with me for another week?”

You can’t stop touching him; hands gliding over his shoulders as he noses at the spot behind your ears where you’re the most sensitive. “I might be able to be talked into it.”

He smiles, and it’s blinding. “I love you,” he whispers, right before he kisses you again.

Later that night when you call Peggy on speakerphone and tell her the entire story, Steve takes the phone and says “told you so,” before hanging up.

Bucky’s arms around your waist, you’re already thinking of writing the concierge who made the room mix-up a thank you card.


End file.
